


Mikey

by DaughterofElros



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A play about Identity, how one person can be many people in the eyes of those they are close to, and how different those personalities may be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mikey

SETTING: A waiting room outside a hospital operating room:  five folding chairs- three lined up stage right, two stage left. A projection screen upstage center creates a wall, small tables hold magazines, etc.

 

AT RISE: A clock is ticking in the background, a phone rings in the distance. MATT and BRANDI sit next to each other in chairs at SL.  MR. ADAMS and LISA ADAMS sit next to each other in chairs SR.

 MATT is flipping through a magazine, not really reading, LISA ADAMS is twisting a tissue nervously in her fingers, MR. ADAMS is constantly checking his watch. BRANDI, who is wearing a cheerleading uniform, chews on the end of the straw in her soda cup. RYAN enters from SL. Everyone looks up at him and pauses, confused. He hunches his shoulders, hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and crosses to SL, taking the last chair DSL and sits, chewing on his fingernails. Lights fade and MATT stands up (taking chair, if he wishes) and moves to the spotlight SL. He begins his monologue, and the slideshow starts.

 

NOTE: Throughout this play, during each monologue, a slideshow may commence, illustrating certain events brought up by each character and other slices of MIKE’S life, as each person saw it based on their relationship with them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

MATT

It’s been five _hours_. That’s a long time. Shit.

 

You know, Mike and I have been best friends since, well….forever. When we were kids, we were on all the same little league teams, in all the same elementary school classes. We were attached at the hip- we spent so much time at each other’s houses that our parents always joked they’d each gotten two sons for the price of one. We rode our bikes together, shot hoops, learned how to throw a football with his dad. We drove my cousin Brandi crazy with pranks- putting worms in her hair, frogs in her bed. We tracked mud all over his mom’s pristine beige carpets and when we were three, we colored in crayon on the walls of my kitchen which ended in, in our young minds, the worst thing possible- -a time out.

The day his Mom died, he came to my house as soon as he got home from the hospital and we both just sat and cried for hours. I mean, we were 13 and we just sat there crying like three year olds, because that didn’t matter. She had been as much my mom as his

We hit High School and nothing really changed. The biggest difference was that our one-word name changed from MattieandMikey to Matt’N’Mike. Hell, we’ve brought the same lunches to school every day for 12 years, only to switch them at lunchtime because we like each other’s lunches better than our own. He’s part of me.

 We both played Soccer, made Honor Roll, got our Driver’s Licenses by the end of Sophomore year.  I mean, we have different interests, sure.  Like…Mike started writing for the newspaper- he was brilliant at writing. I started acting with the Drama club. Mike SUCKED at acting, but he hung out with us anyway, helped with publicity. I think everyone can remember that one play a couple years back when we just _weren’t_ selling tickets and Mike came up with a solution.

He stripped off his shirt and strutted around, offering a kiss on the cheek to anyone who would buy a ticket. The girls went crazy and the tickets went like wildfire. We sold out on opening night.

He started dating my cousin around the end of Sophomore year. Which was kinda… weird at first, because he and I are so close. But I got over it. They’re perfect together, and life has been great.

But something has to have been wrong. I mean, if they’re saying that he did this on purpose, that it wasn’t just an accident…

No. Mike wouldn’t do this on purpose-he didn’t have a reason to.

 

 

BRANDI

Mike is….He’s not like other High school guys, you know? He’s always been really sweet to me. Well, after he stopped putting slimy, crawly things in my book bag  and all. Which came immediately after I pushed him on the ground when we were 7 and forced him to eat dirt. Sometimes, you just have to speak guy.

He and Matt lost interest in me after that- Cooties being a major reason, I guess. Mike and I didn’t really notice each other again until this one party during sophomore year. I was drunk off my ass and making a total fool of myself in the hot tub with half the football team. Mike pulled me out, apologized to the guys, and carried me out to the street. I remember punching him and telling him to put me down, but he just buckled me into the passenger’s seat of his pick-up truck and drove me home, snuck me into my house, up to my room, and poured me into bed.

He was still there when I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache- he was sitting in the chair by the door, reading a book. As soon as he noticed I was awake, he handed me some Advil and a glass of water for the killer hangover

It’s weird, you know? He treated me in a way that no one else ever had before- girls are either my friends or jealous of me, and most guys look at me trying to judge how to get me into bed with them. But Mike didn’t look at me like they did- he treated me like I was actually someone who possessed some amount if intelligence.  Maybe it was the fact that we’ve known each other since we were burping up mashed peas, but he acted entirely indifferent to this _(gestures to her body)_ And I guess that made me realize that I was attracted to him, because he didn’t act like I was prize to be won.

By the time we got to school on Monday, everyone know that he had whisked me out of Chad’s party and then spent the night at my house- Kristy Pedington saw him leaving the next day, too. Everyone kept asking me if we were going out. I kind of just let them think what they wanted and, it turns out, so did Mike. By Fourth period, half the school “knew” we were going out- and both of us were fine with that.

We’ve been dating ever since- football games in the fall, when we weren’t at one of his soccer games, basketball in the winter, baseball in the spring, or hanging out at the Waterfalls to the west of town. We went to the County Fair both summers and he won me _huge_ stuffed animals. We ditched school one day that first June before exams started to check into a motel and learn about Sex- something which, despite my more than questionable reputation, I had had no actual experience with.

School came back around and it was our Junior year- We did our homework together and sometimes explored some ‘extracurricular activities’, if you know what I mean. We went to Homecoming, and then to Harvest Fest, kissed under the mistletoe at Christmas and went to parties more and more

For our one-year Anniversary, he took me out to this expensive dinner and then we went dancing- you know, like in the old movies with four guys playing string instruments and another one crooning into the microphone and it’s pure romance? Mike is the perfect boyfriend and what’s more, the perfect friend. I love him.

 

I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared than I am now, than I was today when Matt burst into the gym, out of breath and calling my name. We were just getting into formation to practice the pyramid for the homecoming halftime routine and I turned around to yell at my cousin for interrupting practice less than a week before the big game when I realized by the look on his face that something was wrong.

“It’s Mike.” He said. “He was in an accident. He’s in the hospital.” The world just disappeared then, like a trapdoor falling out from under me and all I could hear were the words, “Accident…..Accident……Accident”, even  as I was running to grab my coat and then running to Matt’s car, all the way to the Hospital, “Accident….Accident…Accident”

And now there’s just this…waiting.

 

MR. ADAMS

That song that says, “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone?” You know that one? Truest thing I’ve ever heard. I lost my wife, Anna to cancer almost six years ago and I thought I’d never experience anything like it again. But this…this is worse, almost. I think I finally know how the defendant in a murder case must feel, waiting for his verdict. And the worst part is…I’m mad at him. He’s driven that road a hundred times before- a thousand even. He knows it like the back of his hand- when I was teaching him to drive I warned him about that sharp turn there, pointed out that tree and told him to always be careful. Jesus!

You never think that something like this could happen to your kid. When they’re four years with their first baseball bat and you’re pitching them a big white plastic wiffle ball, you don’t anticipate waiting _here_ to see if they’ll ever wake up again.

God- there are so many things I have to do yet with him, for him. I have to buy him his first legal drink when he turns 21. I have to help him with his college applications. I have to take out a loan against the house to pay his college tuition. I have to buy him a stripper for his bachelor’s party the night before his wedding. I have to wait with him for his wife to deliver their first baby and smoke a cigar with him while we wait. I have to yell at him at least twenty more times for breaking curfew, we have to sit in front of the TV this baseball season and argue about whether the swaps that were made were worthwhile or not. There are so many things I still have to do. And so many things I remember.

The day he was born, his grandfather and I sitting there with those stupid cigars and waiting to see him, tiny and almost mousey wrapped in this little blue blanket.

Teaching him to ride a bike. All three of us, Anna, Lisa and myself teaching him to roller-skate- what a disaster that started out as. Him and Matt learning how to throw footballs and him showing me, all smiles and missing teeth the day he finally mastered shooting a basketball.

Giving him, “The Talk”  That was an experience, let me tell you. Anna laughed at me for days after that one.

I remember him the day that Anna died, trying to be strong for Lisa and Myself, all the way through the wake and then the funeral.

I remember the day he entered High school- he was so nervous, even though he tried not to show it. And the day he first started learning how to drive.

The day he made the soccer team and danced around the kitchen, shouting enthusiastically until Lisa threatened to gag him.

I remember Eighteen Christmases and Birthdays.

Those can’t all just be memories though, or things that will never happen. I need more than that from my baby boy. I need him to live.

 

 

LISA

I know what this town thinks of my little brother. He’s their golden boy. Everyone in this town loved my mother, and when she died, they all grieved for her. And for us- Me, Dad, and Mike. They used to congratulate us for holding up so well and for being such great children. I was already a senior in High School by that point, and Mike was in the 7th grade. We all moved on, and everyone thought about what wonderful people we all were.

I don’t know when I first really noticed that something wasn’t right. Definitely by last year when I was done with college and here full time. Mikey would… go out at all hours of the night, stay out all night some of the time. He’d say that he was going over to Brandi’s or Matt’s and then one or the other of them would call, looking for him and I’d cover. I tried to ignore the late-night phone calls and his evasions every time I mentioned any of it.

 Finally, a few months ago, I decided to find out what he was up to. So after he went out, I snuck into his room and started snooping through his drawers. I found some stuff, alright. In the second drawer of his dresser.

Drugs. Weed, an awful lot of weed but also cards and bottles full of pills- Vicadin and other things. Tiny plastic bags filled with white powder that I can only assume was cocaine. Lists of scribbled phone numbers. And then cash. A lot of it. I stood there and then I closed the drawer and went down and brewed a pot of coffee. Tried to figure out what I was supposed to do. Confront him? Let him go? Tell Dad that my little brother was selling drugs? Doing drugs?

I waited up for him and when he got home hours later, we talked. He agreed to get rid of the drugs and not buy or sell anymore if I agreed not to tell Dad. I asked him if he had ever done any of his drugs. He hesitated, staring at me with haunted eyes, but then said that he had. He promised he would stop.

Over the next couple of months, he seemed to get better. He seemed happier. And he was home a little more after that. I thought I had done the right thing.

 But…I missed something. Because happy, well-adjusted people don’t sell drugs. And they don’t send their cars hurtling at 50 miles an hour towards a tree without even attempting to hit the brakes or turn the steering wheel.

If I had said something then, six months ago instead of letting him go with only promises…would we not be here today? Would he still be safe? I love my baby brother but…maybe I loved him too much for his own good. One way or the other, it’s too late now, isn’t it?

 Just please, please, God- make him okay.

 

 

RYAN

I know that everyone’s looking at me, wondering, “Why is he here?” And it’s true. At first glance, Ryan Haden doesn’t fit into the glorious, golden world of Mike Adams that everyone will look back on so nostalgically- sports games and student council meetings aren’t my thing. But… that world wasn’t really Mike’s world. It was a world that he belonged to by default because everyone wanted him to belong to it.  So no. I don’t fit. But the irony is, neither did Mike.

I know Mike better than all of the people in this room. Better than his family,  better than Matt because Mike would tell _me_ everything- what he was really thinking of,  what he wrote about and dreamt about, what he was afraid of.

 I know him better than Brandi because, well….She doesn’t even know that I exist or what I mean to him. What he means to me.

 

I don’t really know why we started hanging out together, or why we ended up the way we did. Maybe because I was everything the cookie cutter life he was leading didn’t allow, everything he wanted so badly. What started out as friendship became….more. More than what he and Brandi had, more than we’d ever anticipated.

It was supposed to be occasional, an extension of friendship. Not him coming over at Ten PM after his girlfriend left so he and I could study together, or play cards, or sit and write music. It wasn’t supposed to be falling asleep wrapped up in the King of Cool’s arms at least once a week, waking up together the next morning.  It wasn’t supposed to be like that. But it was. And it was wonderful.

I’m not going to put a name to any of it. A name cheapens the essence of something, sometimes. It would disgust some people, or sound trite to others. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but maybe it would smell even sweeter if you didn’t try to categorize it and name it and just…breathed.

 

But close as we are, Mike kept secrets from me too. There were parts of his soul that were too dark for him to allow even me to see. The difference is, at least he let me know that they were there, instead of erecting the most elaborate façade.

I know that there’s a part of him that gunned the engine tonight and kept the wheel straight instead of turning. I know that he meant to do that. I don’t know why he meant to, but I know he did.

What he doesn’t understand though, is that a part of all of us is dying in there tonight on the operating table. Because we all love him, and we’re all praying. They said he had a chance. It didn’t look good, but he had a chance. And We’re still clinging to that tiny ray of hope.

                        (RYAN returns to his seat, lights back on the waiting room, everyone continues looking nervous and fidgeting for five seconds. Then a DOCTOR in scrubs enters and beckons to MR. ADAMS. They speak for a second, and then the lights go down. Curtain closes.)

 

 


End file.
